


In the Calculus of Eleventh Grade Love

by victorianvirgil



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Breakup, Death of parent, Fluff, Grieving, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, mentions or trauma/ptsd, past relationship, some homophobia, takes place in the late 80s so that time period, they’re high school sweethearts basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21959845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorianvirgil/pseuds/victorianvirgil
Summary: The three years of high school Logan Mantas had gotten through so far had been nothing short of an utter hell. With all he went through and without friends to ease his pain, it was only the idea of a better future getting him through. But with a cold front hitting his small town just before winter break, maybe rekindling a former flame is what Logan needs to find warmth and happiness in his life again.And maybe Roman Rao is looking for the same exact thing.
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	In the Calculus of Eleventh Grade Love

_ December 18, 1987 _

Sweat poured down Logan Mantas face in buckets, pushing his black Warby Parkers down the bridge of his nose. His gray school-provided shirt was sticking to his skin and with each slap of one of his soles against the cruel blacktop beneath him, pushing him forwards, he gasped for air.

“On your left,” a voice laced with laughter said from behind and Logan’s brows furrowed in annoyance, shifting to the right closer to the brick school building as another came bounding behind him. The boy passed without another look, lapping Logan easily and moments later, his friends were passing him too, purposely bumping into him all while hissing slurs under their breaths.

It passed after a moment, the group laughing and racing to join their leader still running twenty or so paces ahead of them. Leaving Logan even shorter of breath, slowing to a walk as he tried to piece himself together with their words still buzzing in his ears. Like the Christmas season wasn’t hard enough already with his mother and all.

Logan finished his last lap and slipped back into the gymnasium door, not the last to arrive but certainly not among the first, and hid behind the bleachers until class was over and all of his peers had left the locker room. It was a mistake he had made once before, freshman year with the accident still fresh in his mind, and it wasn’t one he would make again.

Inside the locker room after Logan pulled the door open was Roman Rao, starting quarterback since his sophomore year and seeming to date a new girl every week, leaning against the lockers. His arms were crossed over his chest and his jeans clung to his thighs. He had showered, clearly, and beads of water caught at the end of his hair, dripping down in slow, almost calculated movements.

Only a week had passed and Logan was still wondering if he made the right decision in breaking it off.

Neither spoke as Logan shuffled to his locker, forcing a neutral expression across his features. He couldn’t let his thoughts betray him, give Roman any reason to think that that his heart had been broken, that he had spent the past week after school watching  _ Top Gun  _ over and over again. Only just finishing all his work and spending more time grieving the relationship than what was surely appropriate.

That Logan was quieter than ever before, head and hand down in class as his teachers and peers bubbled with Christmas cheer.

He couldn’t find it himself to even pretend, to smile as the salutatorian handed out personalized cards in his AP Calc class. Luckily, Logan wasn’t known for being a bundle of joy and Emile had been expecting only a nod in acknowledgement. Which Logan gave, but nothing more. After his dream last night, it had been a miracle he even made it to school, gripping the handlebars of his bike tighter than he ever had before to stop his trembling. To try to.

“Logan,” Roman said after a moment, Logan’s gym shirt off and thrown back into his locker without much care. But he didn’t turn around until his shorts were off too, replaced by a pair of corduroys and a blue sweater swallowing any appealing curve to his body.

And when he did turn, his locker closed and locked, he didn’t even acknowledge his ex, swinging a strap of his backpack over his shoulder and heading towards the door of the locker room without looking his way.

“Be mature, Lo,” Roman sighed, slamming his own locker shut and following Logan, placing a hand on the wood to keep it shut when Logan tried to open it. Only then did Logan glance his way, feel his heartbeat stutter in his chest and the pulse of his wrist. “I . . . this is what you want, I won’t stop you-”

“I’m not having this conversation with you, Rao,” Logan cooly replied, green eyes like ice when they flickered Roman’s way. He was taken aback and his hand retreated to his side, giving Logan enough time to pull it open and step out. The bell rang but his Calculus teacher was used to him being late to class. The gymnasium was across the school, after all.

Roman followed him at a distance, slower than he had been only half an hour before when he was racing past Logan with his pack of asshole friends hot on his trail. Months ago, Logan would have convinced himself that it was just an act. That beneath the surface, he really was a good guy who was sweet, dorky, and more than just a dumb jock. Smart, talented, and doing all he could all the time to make Logan happy.

A miscalculation on Logan’s part, numbers didn’t lie. He had known that the odds of a guy like Roman actually falling for a freak like him were slim to none, but he tried to beat them anyways. Or rather, he couldn’t help but try after hearing him sing “Someday My Prince Will Come” during one of their movie nights snuggled on the couch in the dark, Logan anxiously looking towards the window ready to jump up in case his parents got home early.

But Roman’s singing made him forget his troubles, like it always did.

The door to the classroom was left open for him, his teacher in the middle of reviewing one of the homework problems and acting normal as Logan strode in and took his seat towards the front. Roman slinked in not long after, sliding into his seat besides Patton without a look Logan’s way.

Both were silent for the entirety of the class, Roman occasionally snorting at something his friend Patton said but not as much as normal. He didn’t throw pieces of paper at Logan to catch his attention or whisper loudly about his parents being away and having the place to himself so that the other would hear. There hadn’t been any of that for a week now so, really, Logan didn’t expect anything different.

But it struck deeper the day before break, the last day of the year that they’d see each other before the new year.

The final bell rang an hour later and Logan’s classmates hurried out of the room, arms wrapped around one another and pure bliss across their face as finally,  _ finally,  _ they were free. Logan was the last to leave, offering his teacher a small nod as both a  _ Merry Christmas  _ and a  _ Happy New Year  _ before slipping out the door with his head down and books cradled in his arms. All around him, kids were laughing, basically throwing gifts at their friends. Materialistic fiends.

Roman, of course, was among the loudest and carrying the most presents. His newest conquest, the beautiful Valerie, had her arm wrapped around his waist as she nuzzled into his collarbone with a brilliant smile across her lips. While kissing the top of her head, his eyes flickered up, meeting Logan’s for a moment. The deep, sturdy mahogany evoked memories of golden, celestial bodies slamming into each other like dying stars, lips leaving constellations on skin.

A sad smile spread across the same lips that had been claimed by Logan less than a month ago, less than a week ago, and it was then that a freshman walked straight into his back, rupturing whatever moment the two had shared.

It took a moment for Logan to recover, almost spilling his books and binders onto the hard tile floor, and after regaining his balance, he looked up to see Roman gone.

Not that he had been expecting anything else from him, really; it was the one good thing Roman had ever done for him.

Leave.

-

Logan always spent Christmas Eve at the graveyard his mother was buried at, sometimes the mound of dirt she lay and rotted beneath covered in snow, and other time coated only by his tears. A bouquet of red roses lay abandoned at Logan’s feet, seeming to bleed through the pure white snow. He hadn’t been able to see her since July, hadn’t had the time or the need for her advice.

He had both now and in a voice below a whisper, he said, “Hey, mom.”

A cool wind brushed against his neck but otherwise, there was no reply.

Thankfully, he had learned better than to expect one.

“I miss you . . . but you already knew that.

“It’s silly for me to be here and I know that, I know that you’re gone and nothing exists after our last breath but . . . I’ve never talk to you before, I don’t know how to do this. And I don’t know if you’d . . . if you’d  _ like  _ Roman or me after finding out that I’m-”

“Logan.”

Spinning on his heel, Logan turned towards the disembodied voice to see that it was none other than Roman.

“What are you doing here?”

His hands were tucked into his pockets, the winter hat Logan knitted for him for his birthday tugged over his eyebrows and scarf drawn up to his nose. But Logan knew it was him, would know it even if he was blind and deaf.

“I knew you would be here.” Roman’s voice was like a warm hand brushing down his spine, tugging at his insides and stirring the storm threatening to tear his chest apart.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Logan replied, shoving his hands into his coat pockets so Roman wouldn’t see how they trembled in his presence.

“I think it does.”

The snow sighed under Roman’s boot as he took a step forward, closer to two-thirds of the Mantas clan, and neither mother or son stirred. Not until Roman was half a breath away, the tips of his shoes brushing Logan’s, and hands out of his pockets, gloveless and tanned fingers, hesitantly reaching forward. Closer, closer.

Too close.

“Roman-”

He instantly dropped his hands, closing in on himself and nodding in acknowledgment to the other’s words. “No need to explain, it’s okay.”

“No, I should . . .” but what was there to say? That Logan couldn’t keep pretending he wasn’t in love? That despite everything they had been through, it would never work because Roman was too scared to emotionally be with a man?

They had done this dance before, Logan discarding his fear of eye contact to tell Roman just how shitty a human being he was.

And Logan was tired of it all, damn exhausted.

“Really, it’s okay . . . Merry Christmas, Logan,” Roman said with a forced smile across his lips, one that Logan couldn’t look away from. Eye contact had always been difficult for him and Roman never seemed to mind, doing his best to make Logan feel comfortable and safe.

His lips parted and then Logan was there, a hand cupping the back of his neck and his own mouth pressed against him. Roman’s breath hitched, clearly not expecting the contact, but he quickly recovered and melted into Logan’s burning touch.

A goodbye if either had ever tasted one, and it took all of Logan’s strength to pull himself away.

“Merry Christmas,” he breathed, thumb running circles around his forefinger as he turned, leaving his mother, Roman, and the bouquet of roses behind.

The world in front of him was nothing but a road that had been trampled over again and again by people that had gone to visit their deceased family members and friends, and Logan was just another footprint among them. No more significant, no better off, and he wondered if Roman would still be watching him if he turned back.

He wasn’t, but of course not. Logan hadn’t been expecting anything else.

-

The next morning, the doorbell rang and Logan knew that it was Roman. His father was still asleep and the rest of his family wouldn’t be arriving until noon, so he sluggishly pulled himself from his warm sheets and slid into his slippers. The radio was still on in the living room and the tree still lit in the window. Through the pine-green branches Logan could just make out a flash of deep red and his suspicions were confirmed.

He opened the door anyway, both of them surprised by it.

“What are you doing here?”

“Deja vu, huh?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You’re doing that on purpose.”

The air was cold, nipping at Logan’s nose and coloring his cheeks. After a moment of staring at one another—Logan anywhere but into Roman’s eyes, of course—he sighed and stepped aside to allow Roman room to enter. “Come in, I guess.”

“Good, wasn’t sure how long it was going to take . . .”

Logan ignored him, shutting the heavy wooden door behind him and glancing down to Roman’s boots. He took them off without needing to be asked, used to the way Logan’s house ran. Then came his coat, shrugging it off and hanging it on an empty hook by the door. Pocketing his hat and gloves, he was left in a long-sleeved navy blue shirt, jeans, and the red hat a bit too big for his head.

“What do you want, Roman?”

“To apologize.”

Out of all the things Logan expected the other to say, all the lies he anticipated the other to weave to make himself look better—to get Logan back, even—that was the last thing he expected to hear. A nod before sitting on the couch, motioning for him to continue.

“I wasn’t ready for this, Lo,” he began, eyes fierce and filled with passion. Honest and daring, a knight’s final stand. “You were real, the realest damn thing in my life, and I couldn’t . . . I knew that . . .”

Logan waited but he’d always wait for Roman, would wait lifetimes for him.

“I knew that I would spend the rest of my life with you and I couldn’t do that just yet.”

A pause, Roman opening his mouth to continue before Logan cut him off. “And you expected me to, what, wait until you were ready? That I’m a toy you can pick up when you’re mature enough to use?”

“No,” Roman quickly interjected shaking his head. “No but . . . you’re too good for me, Lo. And I wanted to be good enough for you.”

“That doesn’t make sense . . . you’re supposed to work through those struggles in a relationship together not . . . not like this. I need more than this.”

“And I can give it to you, if you just . . . if you let me try. I . . . I love you.”

So there it was, the last of Roman’s cards placed on the table. Logan could pick it up, throw the words back in his face like venom or acid and watch him burn beneath them, shiver and sob beneath the cruelty he deserved for treating Logan like an object.

But when Logan looked into Roman’s eyes, he was gone. He was back in his bed the first time they slept together, safe in the other’s arms when he awoke screaming from a nightmare about his mother and the crash that killed her. He was in the coffee shop where they had their first date, sitting on opposite ends of the table with their fingers only occasionally brushing—trying to be cautious and casual.

He was back at the graveyard the first Christmas since her death, hand laced in Roman’s as his tears fell in time to the smiling snowflakes brushing over his lashes.

“I love you too,” he breathed, holding eye contact for as long as necessary before letting it fall. And the affirmation was all Roman needed to slide into the seat next to him, wrap an arm around his waist and lean his head against his shoulder. “And we can . . . we can be this again.”

“I’d like that,” Roman smiled against the fabric of Logan’s Christmas sweater.

“No girls this time though, okay?”

“Okay.”

“And tell your friends to stop being assholes.”

“I was planning on telling them. About us.”

They were an  _ us  _ again, Logan’s heart singing at the thought. “Will they be okay with it?”

“Oh yeah, we’ll be fine.”

And Logan didn’t expect anything else.

**Author's Note:**

> merry merry bitchmas!!!!!! sorry this is so late i’m a :•)


End file.
